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The one who was not supposed to exist

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Skírnir Aevalur was not an honourable man, but even he was not as heart-less. He had worked himself up to become the Ljósálfar ambassador for Asgard, a position many would die for. But the job came with many secrets, some kept for the good of the realm and others born out of selfish actions or mistakes. Today a new secret was brought to his attention, one he had to swear never to tell a soul about. He was ordered by the king of Vanaheim, the father of a new lord of Alfheim, to get rid of the evidence, but as the candles started to burn low he found himself incapable of moving a muscle. His life was being threatened and in order to save it, he had to do the most despicable thing. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could do it easily. One swift movement of his blade and it would be done, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to pick up his dagger and kill the girl.

She was fast asleep in a bunch of silken blankets. She was not even a day old and apparently her presence was already dangerous. The Vanir king hadn’t told him why she had to die, but it was obvious it was of immense importance to the king. If he were to take the girl’s life, he would accompany prince Frey to the Bifrost and become the new ambassador for his son. He would be transported to Asgard while prince Frey and his company would go to Alfheim. He was Ljósálfar by birth, but because of his smuggler’s past, he was exiled and found his way to Vanaheim where he became a close confident to king Njörðr. The position of ambassador was one of great wealth and respect, but king Njörðr even promised him to become the ambassador for Asgard! He would receive living quarters in the palace of Asgard and would sit in the dining hall with the Allfather himself.

Surely he would do anything to gain such favour and normally he wouldn’t have backed out of anything. No job was too dirty for Skírnir Aevalur. That was until the little girl wrapped up in the blue silks had opened her eyes and had looked at him. They were big and pleading, but the colour was the thing that truly made his heart skip a beat. It was even more brilliant a colour than the most beautiful sapphires he had seen around the queen’s neck. They were mesmerising and an iron fist clenched his heart at the thought of seeing the light leave those beautiful eyes. He sighed for the hundredth time as he opened his eyes again to look at the sleeping girl. He had been here for hours and still he hadn’t picked up his dagger.

He couldn’t do it, he suddenly realised, but if he didn’t, he wouldn’t receive the highest position of ambassador. He would just remain an up-turned smuggler and a thief. Even though he now lived at the court in Vanaheim, his hunger for ambition hadn’t stopped. In fact it had only increased and this position would be the cherry on top of a well-baked cake. But still he could not do it. He sighed one more time, unwrapped the sleeping girl and laid her down at the bottom of the closet. He then grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped her in it before shutting the doors, grabbing his dagger and leaving the room. He knew what to do and if his plan worked, he would have all that he desired, but if it didn’t he would most likely be hunted down.

He quickly found what he was looking for and followed the noise all the way to the back of the tavern that was closest to his hiding place. A black dog was tied up to await his owner, whom was surely drinking his fill in the Tavern. Most of the townspeople were celebrating Ostara and were either at home with their family or at the tavern with friends. Maybe the owner wouldn’t even remember that a dog was waiting for him. He kneeled down, wrapped the dog in the blue silks and slid its throat in one clean cut. The dog whimpered just once before falling limb in his hands. Once he was satisfied with the blood soaking the silks he unwrapped them and dragged the lifeless body of the dog under some bushes. He then left and went back to his original hiding place. The girl was still sleeping when he opened the closet doors as if she had no care in the world. He sat back down at the desk and wrote a letter for the king, then grabbed a box and dropped the soaked silks into it before sealing the box off. Before the dawn crept over Vanaheim, the king had received the evidence of the murder and Skírnir received a pardon to excuse his previous crimes, a noble title and the order to accompany prince Frey to the Bifrost.

The girl, who was still wrapped up in the blanket he had given to her, was left on a doorstep of a family of weavers. He didn’t know much about them, only that they were childless and that they were weavers, but that was enough for him to calm his mind, that at least the girl wouldn’t grow up as a slave. He placed a note between the folds of her blanket for her new caretakers to find, threatening them to take care of her. With one last glance at the girl and a muttered ‘good luck’, he left to fulfil his new duty as ambassador and soon the girl was all but forgotten.