Song: Cicada Days (by Will Wood)

Trigger Warnings: Mentioned alcoholism, Death of family members, Suicide (I will put a warning before and after the scene with the suicide)(please skip if you need to, stay safe lovelies <3)

A/n - FYI this is the most trigger warnings in a single chapter in this entire book

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For as long as I can remember I was told over and over that I would someday grow up to become something great but was always reminded that with that greatness comes much dedication. It takes humility, not relying on that promise of greatness, but instead only using it as a driving factor.

It's something that all mothers tell their children, an encouraging promise that they can become whoever and whatever they desire. However, there was always such undoubtful certainty behind my mother's eyes, I think she really was wholeheartedly convinced that I would be something amazing. I only wish that I shared that same belief, but I lost that hope a long time ago.

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I was incredibly lucky as a young child, and I was definitely aware of that. My mother, Göndul, was a part of Odin's elite force of Valkyrie and one of the most powerful warriors and sorcerers throughout the whole 9 realms. The only thing I have ever wanted was to be half the person that she was.

Both my parents, my mother more so than my father, were very strict, but they had their reasons to be. It was necessary not only because of my mother, her reputation, and who she worked for but also because of what was expected of me, even from before I was born.

I never honestly fully grasped it, but ever since the day my mother became aware that she was pregnant, it seems that everyone in the entirety of Asgard already had a set expectation for me.

I have only partly heard the story a few times, most of the time when the tellers were not aware I was listening. I heard many different versions, but from what I have gathered it seems that even before Göndul was aware of her pregnancy, an old prophet had a vision about her child. It was extremely vague, even for her, and she retold it with even less detail, claiming it was for the sake of fate.

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"There the child born of late

Is marked as a child born of Fate

Through trials and tribulations they will face

They fulfill their destiny with only grace.

Sacrificed to fuel Fate's flames

For the sake of Fate's cruel game

Forced to walk through Fate's brutal blaze

So they may guide others through the fires post chaise.

Covered in soot and left to rot

Fate's child is by no means lost

Finally when they feel that everything around them crashes

The child of Fate will raise a peace long forgotten from the ashes."

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(A/N - so funny story, the day after I wrote this poem for this story I had a school assignment where I needed to write a short poem, and this fit the requirements so I just copy-pasted it. Work smart, not hard kids. (My teacher is probably wondering what kind of angsty shit I am on though...))

I spent so long trying to decipher or make any sense of it, but no one could. I suppose that is the point though.

More often than not, those assigned by Fate do not have a kind fate themselves, and the whole 'Sacrificed to fuel Fate's flames' did not necessarily give me any peace of mind that fate would choose to be kind to me. Therefore, you are usually not allowed to know what you are destined for until you fulfill your said destiny, basically to make sure that you don't avoid or mess it up. Hence the whole cryptic nature.

Honestly, it was all kind of depressing. Every day I was simply just waiting to 'fulfill my destiny.' I was told that it was an honor to be picked by Fate, and part of me was honored to be able to 'raise a peace' and all, but another part of me was also selfish and scared.

What if I failed? What would happen then? I would have failed at the only thing that was required of me. Everyone's expectations piled on top of me, weighing me down, and causing me to dread turning every corner in fear that it would be time, and that I would inevitably fail at my one purpose. I would mean nothing then, I would have no purpose, and that's what terrified me.

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The moment I was born the old prophet set the symbol of destiny, the Web of Wyrd, upon my chest. Therefore proudly showcasing to everyone that The Norns had hand-picked me to make sure destiny would be fulfilled.

However, throughout the many years, I would only grow to despise the mark etched into my skin more with every passing day. It served as a constant reminder to me of how everyone expected so much from me and how I have only failed them over and over again. I always reminded myself it must be some kind of mistake, so for my own sanity, I pushed it from my mind praying that others would slowly forget as well.

When the Allfather heard of this so-called prophecy he demanded that the old prophet share it with him, but she claimed that "in order for destiny to be fulfilled, Fate herself must decide when best to reveal my needed path, and only then."

But that's all just a load of bullcrap mumbo jumbo.

In Asgard, you are always taught to not mess with fate, destiny, and all that jazz, you are supposed to trust it, but all I'm saying is that the prophet must have drank a little too much of her 'enlightenment juice' (at least that's what she called it) because there is absolutely no way I am necessary in any way; that has been made quite clear on many occasions. The only thing that is destined for me is the trail of destruction, chaos, and hurt that follows in my wake.

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Other than the fact that I was forced under the judging eyes of others since before I could even walk let alone understand why people looked at me the way they did, life was pretty great. I had two parents who adored me, I lived very comfortably and was always provided for thanks to my mother's service to the throne, and for a short amount of time, I even had friends.

(A/N - I'm just choosing to ignore the fact that in Norse mythology the Valkyrie (especially Odin's elite force) were not allowed to be in romantic relationships, because I have now decided that I am going to single-handedly rewrite the entirety of Norse mythology to the benefit of this story. /j)

Both my parents were everything that I could have asked for. When my mother wasn't away at battle or at the palace, she would either be coddling me or teaching me everything that she knew. As soon as I was strong enough to hold one, she placed a sword in my hand, however, even then I much preferred daggers or a bow. It may seem unusual to many others, even on Asgard, but my mother was determined to start preparing me to become the great being that she was sure I would become.

When she wasn't dragging me along with her to the palace or training me, she would read to me about our history, the history of the Valkyrie, and the history of the entire 9 realms, making sure that I was educated and knew how lucky we truly were to be in our position.

I basically grew up around the palace, my mother would often bring me along with her, but usually, that would instead turn into me hanging around the two young princes. I would often join in their training with them since Queen Mother Frigga claimed that I was the only one around their age that could put up a decent fight.

The three of us became very close, and this terrified everyone in the palace because gods forbid if we were ever out of training and bored, it then suddenly became everyone's problem. Even from a young age I and Prince Loki would be constantly scheming, coming up with some new way to torment the guards or anyone that dared cross our path. Most of the time we were even able to convince Prince Thor to join in on our antics (although it usually required me stealing some form of sweet from the kitchen to persuade him). That is of course if he wasn't our target, which was quite common.

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Everything was perfect, too perfect because everyone knows that of course whenever things seem too good to be true, it's because they are. For so long I flew as high as the clouds, but then finally it was my time to crash and burn, and sadly this was only the first of the many times that I would continue to crash further.

I was used to my mother going away to battle, she always promised she would be back soon and I believed her. How naïve of me. However, even she knew that time she wouldn't come back.

With the threat of Odin's firstborn escaping her banishment, a firstborn that only the valkyrie were aware of and a secret that we were sworn to keep, he sent the Valkyrie in a desperate attempt to stop her, but it was a massacre, and Göndul was aware of that fact. Hence why before the battle my mother pleaded with Odin to make sure that I and my father were to be provided for.

Even when she knew that she wouldn't be, she did everything she could to be certain that I would be safe.

In the first 126 years of my life, the most heartbreak that I knew was when my pet finch 'Figg' flew away, but when I heard the news that my mother wasn't coming back I felt completely and utterly shattered. I felt like everything I was flew away along with her, like I could never be my true self without her by my side, like I was truly lost without hope of finding my way. She was my everything and I was nothing without her.

I didn't come out of my room for months, and the few times I did it was to go punch something, desperately trying to fight the urge to take out my physical aggression on Odin himself. I knew he knew, and I knew my mother knew, I knew that they both knew it was hopeless, and yet he still sent them, as if their lives meant nothing. I never liked the Allfather, but after that day, I had absolutely no respect left for him.

I eventually learned to control this anger and instead channel it into my training, but I would never forget, ever.

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My father wasn't doing well either, he loved my mother with everything that he had, and when she didn't come back he became a completely different person. That cheery common baker that my mother so desperately fell for was far gone, and he was replaced with a distant, emotionless, shell of a person.

I loved my father dearly, but he wasn't the same anymore, all he would do was drink away his sorrows without even speaking a word for days on end. But who could really blame him? I knew I didn't, I understood how he was feeling, but I needed to remain strong, for her.

Hence why in order to support me and my father I took up a job at the palace, which Mother Frigga was so gracious enough to get me. My official title was Mother Frigga's personal maid, although it was more of a secret apprenticeship. I would help out when needed or follow along with her to the healing wing where she would teach me healing magic, but she also knew my true ambition, to be a warrior just like my mother. Therefore, she would often allow me to sneak off to the other Valkyrie to train with them.

We also often enjoyed hiding away from the world and all our responsibilities, running off to the library together to read, which I had a huge passion for, or she would bring me to her chambers where she began to teach me to control the magic that I possessed. But no matter what, the Queen always showed such kindness to me, which I would forever be grateful for.

Every day I would arrive at the palace before dawn and go about my 'duties,' then later in the evenings was when Frigga would teach me more magic, which I apparently picked up surprisingly quickly. After our secret daily sessions, I would head back to our small house on the outskirts of town around sundown where I would care for my father.

TW // Suicide (to skip, continue reading after the *Trigger Warning Over*)

However, that didn't last too long since just about a year after my mother's passing I came home to find my father in the same chair that he had not moved from in months with a dagger in his chest, a bottle of ale on the side table still at hands reach, and a picture of my mother fallen from his other limp hand.

Many say he died of heartbreak on that day, but I think that he died long ago, more specifically, the day my mother left. Only now did his body become too tired of living with that empty hole that rested inside him where his heart should have been.

At first, I hated him for being weak, but I wasn't able to hold my grudge for long. I understood why he did it, more than I think he even knew I did. It still hurt though, it hurt a lot, It hurt that I wasn't enough for him. First I lost my mother, then my father, who didn't even bother to leave an explanation, not a note or anything, but I guess I didn't really need one, I knew why he did it.

I felt hopeless, if my father who I saw as one of the strongest, most caring, determined, and strong-willed people out there couldn't, how was there any hope for me?

*Trigger Warning Over*

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Since I was still a minor and didn't have any other family to live with, the Allfather decided to finally hold up his promise to my mother to make sure I was cared for and I moved into the palace. I continued my apprenticeship with Mother Frigga and she eventually sent me to work in the healing wing once I mastered healing magic enough. However, I always knew I wanted to be on the battlefield instead of helping those who were. I wanted to take after my hero, I wanted to make my mother proud.

So I started pushing myself even further, training harder and constantly. I eventually caught the eyes of many, including Odin, so the instant I turned 150 I went away to the Valkyrie trials, which must I just say, are a living hel (also literally hel since we had to go there on many occasions to escort the dead). Finally, after an excruciatingly long year, I passed with flying colors, earning one of the highest titles among the Valkyrie along with their respect. I officially became a true Valkyrie and swore my undying service to the throne. Branded with the symbol of the Valkyrie, I wore it proudly unlike the other mark that I was still trying to ignore.

Over the many years I truly built a name for myself, I was seen as a great warrior and sorcerer. Some even said I was starting to live up to my mother's name, but even then I didn't believe that was possible.

For many years I fought alongside Prince Thor, Prince Loki, The Warriors Three, and Lady Sif. We were unstoppable. We (more specifically me and Prince Loki) were also unstoppable at causing chaos, that part I never grew out of.

However, I didn't feel as unstoppable as usual when during one battle against the dark elves I got my arm sliced off with a nasty dark elven blade, but I did get a sick ass prosthetic arm so it wasn't the end of the world.

Life moved on, and even though it felt like many parts of me didn't, I was determined to stay strong. And I did, even when everything was stacked against me, I kept my head up, and I learned to channel all those unwanted feelings into other things.

I was doing well, I was even slowly starting to pick up some of the pieces that I thought I lost forever. I thought I was prepared for everything, I thought I imagined every possibility of what could happen at any possible moment, but I suppose I wasn't prepared enough, I didn't think of this possibility, because I was definitely not prepared for what happened next.

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