The royal games were played on Asgard's wooded lands. In years past the royal family and every warrior who cared more for sport then sense, would take the ride from the golden city to the encampments. Gleaming streamers of gold and red, the excitement humming along the ground, such was dreamt of by every boy to show his might and strength in the games before the Alfather and the Asgardian nobles. The valiant winner would hold the title of Asgard's mightiest until the next year passed.
"Why does he not finish this?"
"My lady, my master will not be rushed, might I humbly say." A slash of steal made her jump a little in her seat. "His skill is a dance, rather then brutal strength of most warriors."
Sigyn's head turned toward the servant.
"But what does he expect to gain if he's ran through with that stave?"
Neferi shrugged.
"The glory to have said it was done and he lived, my lady."
Sigyn would've laughed. She felt very inclined to for only the sake that it was so really true of Loki himself and not to
