I move through the dreamscape easily. This time I’m aware of myself. I know I’m Megan, but I’m also Amora, a part of me I know intimately. My brothers and sisters around me ready themselves for battle, and the high whine of metal against stone fills my ears. We sharpen our swords…

                In two days’ time we will march on our enemies. We cannot allow the black one to scorch the earth as the prophecy foretells. We cannot allow Ragnarok to come about. I picture my Queen’s face, telling me how proud she is, telling me I am destined to bring about their downfall and save us all. That the prophecy speaks of me when it refers to “royal blood and the last battle”.

                The grip of my sword is warm in my hand, leather molded to fit my fingers alone. I raise the sword and press the flat side to my brow, honoring our ancestors, swearing I will make them proud. I will make my mother proud.

                The harsh buzz of the alarm clock jerked my eyes open, and I gasped. There was someone’s arm in front of my face. I leaned away and the arm dropped down. My arm. Why the hell had I just been holding my hand up to my face?

                “Weird dreams,” I muttered, and glanced over at Charlotte. She was still completely dead to the world in spite of the alarm. Snoring with her mouth open, her blonde hair in a halo around her head.

                “Lucky,” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and forced myself to shuffle to the bathroom. Making the shower extra hot, I washed my hair slowly, thinking about my upcoming training as I scrubbed the suds through. Dread was making my stomach gurgle unpleasantly, and I suspected that I would have to go without breakfast today. I rinsed out the last of the conditioner and stepped out, rubbing the mist off the mirror with the corner of my towel.

                What did Prince Lief see when he looked at me? I saw hair that had gone too white for my liking, bright blue eyes full of worry….and he saw, what? A threat? Maybe he’d already guessed what his mother told me. Maybe he knew I wasn’t just here to fight, that I was here to usurp his throne. Because that’s what I was, really, when you thought about it. A usurper.

                I snorted and turned away from my reflection. What the hell kind of word was that anyways? It sounded like…like someone who tested soups for a living or something.  Right, think enough weird thoughts and you’ll distract yourself from what’s about to happen, good job Megan. Or do I think of myself as Amora now? My head was beginning to hurt, so I dismissed the thought and went to pick out an outfit. Combing through the wardrobe I mostly found dresses and skirts, but there was no way I was going to show up wearing a freakin’ skirt. Lief would probably laugh his stupid head off. Luckily, hanging at the back of the armoire was a pair of black wide legged pants made of light cotton. I grabbed the hanger, stripped off my night gown and pulled the pants on. They fit pretty well, and flowed around my legs when I moved. Perfect. I grabbed a cotton tank top out of the drawer. It still had lace on it, but it was one of the only non-dressy ones in there. Then I tied my hair up in a sloppy bun, took a deep breath and opened the door. Stepping out into the hall I tried to remember where the training room was. The girls hadn’t taken us that far.

                The corridor was mostly empty this early in the morning, and my sneakers made little tapping sounds on the ice floors that sounded loud in the stillness. I hesitated when the passage way in front of me split. Had Amy taken us down the right one? I seemed to remember it vaguely.  Even though I was feeling petrified at the thought of seeing Lief again, I was almost relieved when I rounded the corner and the hallway ended in the big double doors of the training room.

                The sound of battle washed over me as the doors creaked open. There were three people in the center ring this time. A huge blonde boy with an overabundance of freckles was fighting two smaller Jotun. There was a sword lesson going on in one corner. The instructor was a woman with straw colored hair and a severe jaw line. She was shouting out different commands and holding her sword up in different ways each time she did. There were only about five students, Jotun children I guess, who were following along with her. I stared at them, fascinated. An entire kingdom, and there were only five children? No wonder the Queen was desperate enough to start experimenting with humans!

                “Megan!” Amy was running toward me over the training floor, her face was bright red with exertion. She was breathing heavily. “Are you here for your training? We just finished!”

                I nodded silently, noticing that Prince Lief was walking just behind the group of girls. His face was carefully blank, “Alright,” he said, “you girls run along. It’s Amora’s turn now.”

                There was venom in his voice when he said my name, and I suppressed a shudder. This guy was going to train me? He was going to use pointy objects around me? The girls filed out, and Stacey, who was the last one out the door, shot me a sympathetic look. Clearly she didn’t share Amy’s opinion about how amazing Prince Lief was.

                When I turned back, Lief was regarding me severely, his mouth curved downwards in a scowl, “You’re late.” He said curtly.

                “You weren’t even done yet,” I said in disbelief. Searching the wall for a clock proved futile, there wasn’t one, but it couldn’t even be five past.

                “You will be here at eight sharp every morning,” Lief said firmly, “sharp.”

                “Yeah, okay…sharp. I get it.” I gasped as Lief grabbed my arm tightly, “ow! What…”

                “Do not mock me.” His voice was low and threatening, “ever. Do you understand?”

                I blinked back tears and nodded. What the hell was wrong with this guy? The edge of Lief’s mouth quirked up in a smirk, “Crying already, Amora? You won’t last long here.” 

               He let go of my arm, and I ground my teeth hard and refused to say anything back as he led me across the training room. Lief stopped in front of the wall of weapons, “Choose.”

                “What?” I stared at the swords - all real, all lethal looking –and my heart dropped like a stone. “You’re joking right?”

                He smirked at me again, and I wished his face would stick that way, “What’s the matter, are you afraid?”

                “I’ve never used a sword in my life!” I protested, and tried to shove down the memories of battle that suddenly came up. That wasn’t me that was some kind of weird, genetic dream memory.

                “You’ll learn fast,” he said, “or you’ll get hurt. It’s a good incentive.” He pointed at the wall, “pick one.”

                My hands were shaking, and I clenched them into fists at my sides, determined I wouldn’t let him so how afraid I was. How was I supposed to choose one? I let my eyes drift across the wall. There were swords of every size and shape. Broad bladed heavy looking swords and slender swords with elaborate guards, curved swords that I pictured a pirate using and a few swords with wicked looking hooks on the end. The sun slipping through the training room windows was reflecting off one sword in the far right hand corner. It was a long, slim blade, slightly curved, with a black leather grip and a silver tassel.  

                 Reaching up, I curled my fingers around the leather part carefully, pulling it out of the metal brackets it rested on, bringing it down to eye level. The grip felt warm and natural in my hand, and deep down in the pit of my stomach a little surge of excitement made my eyes widen. It felt good to be holding this. It felt right.

                “Interesting choice.”

                Startled, I looked up from the sword. Lief was staring at me, brow creased. I’d forgotten he was there for a moment. “What do you mean?”

                “You chose a Katana. A Japanese sword. The Samurai used to use them.” He narrowed his eyes at me, “not what I would have pegged you with.”

                I arched a brow at him, “What would you have pegged me with?”

                Prince Lief snorted and turned away, and I caught the words, “A toothpick”.

Fuming, I followed him out into the center of the floor, gripping the handle of the Katana tightly.

                “The first day, I will teach you basic guards.” He said, “after a few minutes of that we’ll move on to hand to hand combat.”

                Something about the idea of prince Lief coming at me with his bare hands was almost as bad as him charging me with a sword. The thought of him touching me made my skin prickle and my throat tight. My self-preservation instincts were bulking at the very idea.

                “Bend your knees and distribute your weight evenly,” Lief strode toward me and I had to force myself not to flinch back. I bent my knees. He held out his sword, one of the heavy looking ones with a broad end, and stuck it between my ankles, banging the flat part into the inside of my shin.

                “Ow!” I hissed, and he smirked again, and said, “Farther apart.”

                “Why don’t you just say that?” I planted my feet farther apart, leg stinging, chest tight with anger.

                “You’ll learn fast this way, trust me.”

                “I trust you as far as I can throw you,”

                Lief’s only answer was banging my other shin, and I had to clench my teeth together to keep myself from screaming at him.

                “Now,” he stepped back and held up his sword, “Hold your sword at an angle like this, away from your body, pointing at your opponent’s chest.”

                I wrapped my hands more firmly around the grip and titled the Katana, feeling another rush of excitement. The sensation of holding a sword was foreign to me, so why did it make me feel so charged and full of confidence?

                “That’s on guard,” Lief said, “your other hand will likely be holding a shield if you’re in battle. Now tip it down and bring it across your body, like this. You want to guard your left hip….now, push through the other way… “

                I copied his movements, the sword flowing smoothly as I did so. After a few seconds I realized I had a huge grin on my face. There was something familiar about this, an old rythem, going through the movements.

                “What are you doing?”

                The sword wavered in my hands, and I jerked my head up. Leif was standing there, the tip of his sword resting on the ground. He was glaring at me.

                “What?” I shook my head, confused.

                “Why did you lie to me?” He growled.

                “What are you talking about…” I shrank back as he strode forward and grabbed a fistful of my shirt, leaning forward to snarl in my face, “you’re familiar with this. You were doing the movements before I got to them. Don’t think you can make a fool out of me, girl. Where did you learn it? I thought you lived with the humans up till now.”

                “I did,” I stammered, “I didn’t learn it. I’ve never done this in my life.”

                Lief glowered at me, “Right. Very well, since you are so confident in your sword play already, we’ll move straight to hand to hand. Set your sword down in the corner.”

                I swallowed hard and walked over to set the Katana down, reluctant to part with it. My heart was beating out a steady rhythm in my ears and the palms of my hands were sweaty. Something told me he wasn’t going to go easy on me.

                “I heard you attacked Lady Edda the other day,” Lief’s face was grim, “she’s an annoying twit, but you can’t just go around punching people whenever they make you mad. What I’m going to teach you is for battle. When someone attacks you, they’re not going to fight fair. So the first thing I’ll do is teach you how to block a punch.”

                Lief’s hand blurred through the air towards me, and I flinched back. “No,” he said sternly, “no flinching. The last thing you want to do in a fight is to shut your eyes. You’ll hit the floor before you even know what’s going on.”

                I glared at him, “ I didn’t know you were going to do that.”

                He sneered at me, “Oh, and all your attackers are going to give you a nice formal warning before they’re about to hit you?” He planted his feet and squared his shoulders, shaking blonde hair out of his eyes, “I’ll show you how to block. Throw a punch at me.”

                “What?”

                “Try to hit me.”

                I just stared at him, feeling queasy, “You want me to…hit you?”

                Lief snorted, “Yes, don’t worry. I seriously doubt you’ll land a blow. Just punch straight out, like you’re going for my face.”

                “Um, alright…” I took a deep breath and swung my fist at him. Lief dodged to one side, avoiding my fist easily. “You’re pulling back,” he said, “put your body into it. You actually want to hit me. Hard.”

                I smirked back at him, “yes, actually. I do.”

                “Good. Try it.” He held his fists up just under his jaw, “come on, Amora.”

                I hated the way he said that, like it was a dirty word. His voice filled me with anger, and I tried to channel it, bringing my arm back and swinging at his face as hard as I could. Lief twisted sideways incredibly fast, catching my outstretched arm in one hand he turned, and the room spun around me, and suddenly my arm was being wrenched up painfully behind my back.

                I gasped, tears stinging my eyes, joints straining in my arm, burning. It felt like he was about to break something.

                His voice was low and gravely right next to my ear, “Not so confident anymore, are you? “

                I tried to keep my voice from shaking, “You’re hurting me,”

                “Battle hurts. Fighting hurts. You need to get used to pain, you need to push through it,” he laughs unkindly, “You’re soft, Amora. The other girls are far ahead of you in battle training.”

                He released my arm, and I pulled away, clutching it to my chest, glaring at him. The room swayed and I rubbed at my eyes fiercely. I won’t let him see me cry. 

                He surveyed me, face cold and impassive, “You’ll probably die in battle you know.”

                I was frozen. I couldn't speak.  But he continued, “We’re preparing for the ultimate battle. One to end all battles. I’ll lead the charge, and the sons of Muspell will fall, and after that, the kingdom is mine.” He turned away from me, saying over his shoulder, “I doubt you’ll last five minutes. You’re obviously too delicate and pampered.  See you tomorrow, princess.”

                Part of me longed to spit venemous words at him. To tell him what his own mother had said about him. That I was the one who would inheret the kingdom, not him. That I would lead the battle, as unlikely as that sounded.  But I didn't. I just watched him walk away, leaving me in the center of the training room floor staring after him, shoulder throbbing, muscles aching all through my body.  I turned and limped for the door, his words rang in my ears. You’ll probably Die in battle. Hate burned in me, and I swore to myself I would get better at hand to hand combat. I wouldn't be content until I landed a blow right in the middle of Prince Lief’s arrogant face.