AN: Okay, so I know many of my readers are shocked to see me back at writing. Yes I have abandoned a lot of my stories due to writers block and being very busy. HOWEVER, I will not abandon this story, I have been writing it on my laptop for a while and it is time that I share it with my darling readers here on FF. With that being said, I do not own the rights to Thor, and all the information I've used is from Norse mythology (i.e. names, etc.) the only thing that I have creative rights over, is the realm of Havetheim. It is not from any of the MARVELcomics for Thor, nor is it a true Norse mythological land. Havet is Nordic for "ocean" and therefore I found it fitting for the story. Do enjoy this story, and please R&R it really is appreciated!

"You can't catch me!"

"Yes I can!"

"I'll get you both!"

The sound of children's laughter filled the corridors of the house of Odin, echoing off the walls and drapery. Three children, two boys and one girl, at the respectable ages of ten, eight, and six, were running about, chasing one another.

"You can't hide from me brother!" the oldest of the three, jeered, his blonde hair ruffled from the wind.

Green eyes peered from behind a column, the younger boy's ebony hair hung in his face.

"Where is he, Thor?" the youngest of the three, the girl, asked, white-blonde hair billowing behind her from the strong breeze.

Thor grinned sheepishly, "Come out Loki! You can't hide forever!"

A soft giggle whispered in the wind, the young girl's ears catching it instantly, "Got you!" she leapt with incredible speed and pinned him against the stone pillar, "Told you I'd get you!"

Loki glared at her, "No fair, Rán, you cheated!"

The girl, Rán, smiled kindly, "Don't be a sore loser, Loki, besides," she cupped her hand over his ear and brought her mouth close, "we'll get Thor this time," she whispered.

His emerald eyes glimmered as they grinned at one another, looking at the older boy mischievously.

"What are you two playing at?" Thor questioned quickly, preparing to run if necessary.

Both Loki and Rán were about to attack, when a loud voice broke them from their fun, "Rán!"

The three children turned to look at the source, a tall man with a stern face, white hair, and kind eyes.

"Father," the little girl smiled, running to him eagerly, her maiden language falling from her lips.

He smirked kindly down at his young daughter, "My dear, we must return home. You shall see the princelings again, all in good time."

Rán's small head whirled around to look at the brothers, her eyes meeting theirs sadly. "May I say goodbye, father?"

"Of course child."

Her feet padded across the marble floor silently, stopping before the two royal children of Asgard, "I must go. I will see you again."

Thor smirked, tapping her on the shoulder, "Maybe next time in Havetheim!"

Rán's face beamed, "Oh yes! I have yet to show you my home! We always play here in Asgard."

Loki stared at her, his green eyes sparkling bright, "Goodbye Rán."

Her cerulean orbs met his gaze, and the two shared unspoken words, a bond their parents said, a bond that would continue 'til they drew their last breaths. She approached the princeling, standing on the tips of her toes in order to press her forehead against his, just as they always did when saying hello or bidding farewell, "Goodbye, Loki."

He smiled, "Goodbye, Rán."

Both he and his older brother watched as the young princess and her father disappeared down the Rainbow Bridge to the Bifrost, where Heimdall stood protectively, ever watchful.

"Come brother, father must be expecting us," Thor smiled, patting his young brother on the shoulder before running off to the throne room. Loki stayed behind, however, waiting until his friend and her father had disappeared beneath the depths of the Asgardian waters.

Twelve years later

The sky ranged in color from blue, to purple, to green, the scent of salt water hanging in the air. Loki could never get used to the splendor of Havetheim, no matter how many times he went there. Sure, studying under the great Sorcerer was a rare privilege, even more so to be given to an Aesir, but he knew the true reason Milnuir had accepted him, and it wasn't only because he was an Odinson. Whilst his brother and his comrades were training above in Asgard, he was down in the beautiful oceanic wonders of Havetheim, studying with his dearest and possibly only true friend.

"Loki."

The sweet voice that plagued his thoughts of late rang in his ears, making him turn from the riverbank where he'd landed. Her white-blonde hair hung between her shoulder blades, contrasting against her light olive skin. Those mesmerizing, blue eyes bore into him like two puddles of sea water, making his heart jump and his face turn hot.

"Rán, where are we to go?" he prodded, eager to know where their lesson for the day was to take place. Usually, to find their tutor, it required the magic they were both learning to harness, yet both royal youths were still quite in their virgin state when it came to sorcery.

The teenage princess smiled, her bare feet padding against the moss-covered ground silently, "Milnuir has asked that we go into the grottos today."

Emerald eyes stared happily, "Grottos, how mysterious," he teased, grabbing her arm and pulling her body against his sharply.

Rán laughed, hitting his chest with her hands, her golden bracelets clinking together, "Stop it! Loki!" she laughed harder as his nimble fingers tickled at the bare flesh of her abdomen, creating a fit of laughter.

"Say mercy," he smirked, watching her writhe made him chuckle.

Her eyes began to water, "Please stop! Please! I'm begging you, Loki!" she squealed, elbowing him in the stomach.

He lurched forward from the impact, giving her enough space to twist from his grip and crouch down, her dagger poised ready to strike him. Loki had seen it closely many times before, the silver blade adorned with a turquoise and lapis handle, once owned by her father.

"You would never hurt me," he held up his hands in mock surrender.

She grinned evilly, "You are lucky that this is true," she slid the blade back into its hiding place on her thigh, covering it with her sarong, "come, our tutor is waiting."

The princeling followed his dear friend over a log that had fallen across the river, taking them deep into the rainforest. The chirp of exotic birds and the rush of water filled his ears; the glorious falls that adorned the right wing of the palace came into view. Glittering walls of onyx and marquisate patched with moss ran up further than the normal eye could see, the water crashing around them creating a refreshing mist against his face. He watched as Rán slipped beneath one of the falls, following close behind to find a pathway hidden behind the curtain of salt water.

"I hope you know where you're going," he teased, Havir falling from his lips as if it were his maiden language.

Rán turned her head, looking back at the emerald eyes that gazed upon her, "Your Havir perfects itself with each passing day, remember who it was that taught you and do well to speak kindly in her presence."

Loki laughed at her playful threat, "Come, come now Rán, I was merely jesting," he smirked as a flush of red came to her cheeks when she realized his joking manner.

"Where here," she stated, pushing aside a drapery of rope, a warm fire sat in the center of the grotto, illuminating the water around them. Precious stones sparkled in the walls, their light bouncing off of the two royal's skin.

"You're late," an old voice resounded behind them, causing them to turn their attention from the glittering waters. Milnuir was an elderly man with kind eyes and a wise tongue, his skin was a few shades darker than Rán's, and the same white-blonde hair. Yet he was covered with many blue markings, tattoos of the Havir culture. Loki was always amazed by them, since they were applied with the magic of ancient Havir scriptures, his eyes drifting to the sapphire stone that hung from a golden chain around his friend's neck. They were a rite of passage, the markings, and Rán, although royalty, had yet to come of age for one.

Rán smiled as the old man placed a withered hand upon her cheek, "Our apologies, Milnuir, Loki delayed us with his mischief," she teased, giving her friend a playful smirk.

"I did no such thing!" Loki protected, feigning shock.

"You two, such close friends, will be the death of me. You have become almost like my children, and yet you cannot cease your youthful banter even during lessons," the old man chuckled, gesturing to the fire, "come; today you are going to learn something very rare."

The two teens stepped closer to the flame, and Rán's eyes grew wide at the sight. There, beside the fire, was Milnuir's ancient Havir scripture, used for tattooing and other powerful forms of magic. A scripture only allowed to be in the possession of the Sorcerer himself, who applied them to each Havir when they'd earned it.

Milnuir smiled knowingly at his female apprentice, "In time, Rán, you will earn yours, perhaps even you, Loki Odinson," his eyes fell upon the Asgardian prince, "but for now we prepare to bestow the ancient symbol of fire, upon Rán's brother, Aegir."

The young princess looked up to see her older brother; his white-blonde hair was cropped short and tied with a leather strap atop his head. He was a warrior, a good one at that, and their father's heir to the throne of Havetheim.

"Come children," Milnuir beckoned the two students forward so that they might witness the application. Normally, for royals this was done in ceremony, yet a symbol for fire was merely a marking that the warrior had wished for since he was a boy. "The marking for fire consists of three scriptures, I shall apply the first, Rán, the second, and Loki, you shall apply the third and seal the scripture."

Loki and Rán grinned at one another as she stepped forward, blue and green eyes stared at their mentor as he placed a hand upon Aegir's shoulder; a whispered incantation left his lips, his expertly-trained fingers guiding themselves over Aegir's skin, leaving a dark blue streak in its wake.

"Rán, 'tis your turn," he smiled, stepping aside.

Aegir smirked, "Do not ruin my tattoo little sister. I shall hang you from the palace towers by your hair should you do so."

Rán glared at him, "I will not ruin it, and neither will Loki," she placed her hand over the marking Milnuir had made, whispering the second scripture before following the necessary path to finish the second part of the tattoo.

"Wonderful, Rán," his eyes fell on the raven-haired boy, "Loki, you must finish off the marking and seal it against Aegir's skin."

Loki moved forward, placing his hand over the marking as Rán removed hers, his friend's soft skin brush against his as he did so. The pulsing power of Havir magic warmed his hand as he began whispering his line of scripture, watching as the marking completed itself upon his guidance. To seal the tattoo took quite a bit of magic, and Loki was shocked that Milnuir wanted him to do such a powerful thing, but as he held his hand over the marking, he felt the power within him surge with an intoxicating force.

"Well done, Loki. After this lesson I have nothing more to teach you children, you have learned everything I know and more," the Sorcerer gave them a kind smile, "take these gifts as a token of your accomplishment," he turned and disappeared into a small cavern in the grotto, before returning with two bundles of cloth.

Rán noted the square shape of one parcel and beamed in recognition, "Loki! Your own Havir scripture!"

Loki's eyes averted from his friend, to the bundle, back to her, his pale cheeks turning red, "I am not Havir."

Milnuir smiled softly, handing him the sacred, "By mind, spirit, and love, you are now Loki Odinson, as much Havir as you are Asgardian."

When the word 'love' left Milnuir's lips, Loki turned his attention to Rán, whose face had flushed profusely.

"Thank you, I shall cherish it always," the prince smiled, accepting the gift gratefully.

Milnuir nodded, handing the other bundle to Rán, "For you my dear, something your mother wished me to give you when the time was right."

Rán unwrapped a golden anklet, embellished with sapphires, lapis, and the warrior's symbol, "Milnuir, it's beautiful!" she turned to Loki, "Help me?"

Loki smiled, taking the anklet and kneeling down on the stone floor, feeling her hand brace against his shoulder as he slid the bangle over her slender foot, coming to rest around her ankle, "Beautiful," he smiled, letting his hands linger on her shin for a moment, feeling the smooth, warm flesh beneath his cool hands before standing, hiding the smirk on his face. As emerald eyes met the gaze of his tutor, Milnuir gave him a glance that told him that the older man knew all too well what the princeling had been thinking, "Go now, both of you, you must prepare for the feast tonight."

Rán chuckled, taking Loki's hand and tugging softly, "Come, let's go."

The young God grinned, following her back out of the grottos, his gift still wrapped in his hand, "Rán, Rán slow down!" he sighed, resting against one of the walls.

Her eyes looked back at him and she chuckled, "Loki you have already lost your strength?!" she walked back over to him, "Let me see your scripture, each one is unique in its own way."

Loki smirked, pulling it up over his head and out of her immediate reach, "I want to give you two gifts first."

Rán pouted angrily, "You know I never ask of anything from you, Loki Odinson."

"I know, but I want to," he tucked the scripture away in his robes before taking her hand in his, waving his palm over her wrist. Rán watched in amazement as a golden serpent wound around it, its emerald eyes gleaming brightly against the glinting gold and her tan skin.

"Loki it's beautiful!" she beamed, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace.

He sighed, inhaling the smell of the ocean and sand that enveloped her, "Now I'm always with you, even when I am in Asgard."

Rán pressed her lips to his cheek and smiled, "What is your second gift?"

Loki had stumbled as her soft lips pressed against his hallowed cheek, but it only solidified what he was about to do. Slowly, he cupped her face in his slender hands, before bringing his mouth down on hers, kissing her gently. Rán was hesitant, inexperienced with such affection, but as the warmth spread around her body she relaxed, kissing him back, her hands coming to rest against the leather of his over coat. Loki sighed, tracing her bottom lip with his tongue, begging her to acknowledge his request, and that she did. Swiftly she parted her lips, allowing their tongues to thrash against one another's; all the while Rán backed him up against the stone wall of the grotto, his hands now gripping her hips softly. They were young for such romance, with her at the ripe age of eighteen and he having just celebrated his twentieth birthday, but there was a pull between them that neither one could deny.

Loki pulled away, gasping for air and seeing the flush of pink across her cheeks, her blue eyes lidded softly as she rested her forehead against his like they had done so many times in the past, "You have no idea how long I have waited to do that," he whispered, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

Rán smiled, sliding her fingers through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, "Yes I do, for I have wanted the same thing." She pulled open his robe slightly, taking the scripture and pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead, nose, and lips, which Loki returned fervently, causing a soft whimper to emerge from her like mewing cat. The sound made the young Prince's heart soar, and he pulled her closer, their burning as bright as fire. Her lips pulled away from his with a smile, "Like Milnuir said, you are as much Havir now as you are Asgardian," she giggled as his fingers brushed against her flat abdomen, his skin cool against hers.

Rán sighed, opening the cover of his scripture book, taking note of the filigree text and thin parchment, "Loki...this is a very old scripture, I don't believe anyone has seen it in years. It's incredibly powerful," her cerulean eyes met his emerald ones, "it's an enormous honor."

Just as Loki was about to answer her, horns sounded through the sky; alerting the citizens of Havetheim that the evening's celebratory feast in Asgard was beginning. Rán grinned at him, her eyes glittering, "Come on, I know a faster way," she turned the corner out of the caverns, Loki right behind her, the two of them laughing like children as she began climbing the wall behind the falls, her nimble feet finding their footing easily. Loki, however, never being an avid climber, was slow.

"Come on Loki! We'll be late!" she called down to him, already sitting on the ledge of her father's balcony.

The Asgardian chuckled dryly, "I'm not as good at this as you are!" as he reached up, his foot slipped, and he fell, catching onto a lower rock.

"LOKI!" she cried, scrambling down the wall to where he hung, "Give me your hand!"

He reached out to her, his brows furrowing in frustration and worry, her face red with fear as she stretched, "I-I can't reach you!"

Rán felt tears threatening her eyes, but she remained strong, closing her cerulean orbs and muttering a spell under her breath. Slowly, the sky grew dark, storm clouds covering the sky. Harsh wind whistled past them as the waterfall began to curl, rushing beneath Loki's feet like a carpet. He let go of the rocks, being carried up to the balcony by the water, his robes soaked to the bone.

"Rán!" he called down to her, the young princess opening her eyes to smile at him in relief, the sun shining in the once again clear sky, "Come on!"

She climbed back up the rocks, his arms pulling her the rest of the way and into his drenched form, "Oh Gods," he sighed, kissing the top of her head, water dripping down her hair.

Rán kissed the crook of his neck, "You scared me half to death."

"Rán! Loki!" Milnuir's voice boomed through the room, the two royals turning sharply to see the sorcerer, Loki's father, and Rán's father.

Loki looked like a drowned rat, his raven hair stringy and wet over his face, and Rán's cheeks blushed bright red.

"Father."

"Father."

The two addressed their parents simultaneously, Rán's Havir tongue moving quick to keep her conversation with her father private.

"There is no need for our language in these halls, Rán," her father stated sternly, his steel eyes firm with examination, "Milnuir, did you teach my daughter such sorcery?"

The old man nodded, "They both are skilled in the art of magic, what Rán just displayed was what her powers have become. She was worried for the Prince's safety."

"He's my friend," Rán stated, her hand linking with Loki's at their side, his fingers intertwining with hers.

Odin nodded, "So it would seem. Come Loki, we must get you changed and dressed for the feast, bid your farewells for now; you will see one another tonight."

The two of them exchanged a glance, as if they were young children once more getting into trouble, but Rán's soft smile told Loki that no matter how many times they were reprimanded or scolded, she would stand by him, as a friend and more. Rán followed her father out of the throne room and back to her guest chambers where several servants awaited to help her prepare for the celebratory feast.

Loki watched after her, until he felt his father's hand on his shoulder, "Loki, I see the way you look at her, and she at you. Be very wary my son, Havir people are first and foremost warriors, they do not take to domestication well." The Allfather spoke these words in an attempt to help his son understand that loving the Princess of Havetheim would bring him nothing but heartache, for there was something coming that would shift their lives forever.